


The Murder Mystery Party

by Clueingforlooks221B



Series: WOY-tober Challenge 2016 [8]
Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Death Glare - Freeform, F/F, Humor, M/M, Murder mystery party, Pirate themed, flea hunter, tumblesquid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8439325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clueingforlooks221B/pseuds/Clueingforlooks221B
Summary: WOY-tober day 29. Hater throws a murder mystery party, but not everything goes as planned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Once again I've been super busy, and wanted to get this posted before the end of October so I'm splitting this work up into several chapters too. Enjoy!

Peepers exhales roughly for the umpteenth time that day, downing his “fruit punch” in one gulp. A fake strap on beard, curtesy of Lord Hater, “accidentally” fell down his lower lid. Yet, it is still a bother since it is scratching across his collar bone now. 

Although Lord Hater allowed him to keep his helmet on, he forced a dinky black pointy hat that rounds at the top over his helmet. Hater loves it since there is a skull on it, stating that he got it just for Peepers and it is practically Lord Hater merchandise. 

It’s not. At all. 

To Peepers a Lord Hater hood is much cooler, but it makes Hater happy and is such an unusually easy request Peepers abides. 

He glances to Captain Tim who is perched on a wheelbarrow besides him. The commanders lids slant upwards; Tim must have felt similar about his forced attire since he’s ripping the faux hair to shreds. Large chunks of the chiffon hair coated in bright lime toxic drool plop underneath Peepers knee high ebony boots.

For the first time ever Peepers is thankful he’s short, or else his boots would have been disintegrated along with his feet. His boots remain dangling a foot away from the midnight chartreuse splotched floor, but he doesn't want to take any chances. Digging his palms into the backs of his spandex sable pants, he drags his knee caps up to his chest. The small heels of his boots gouge into the top of his wheelbarrow as he rests his eye against his legs. Blindly he shoves the false beard into his shirt, rather it rake its nails down his chest than the bottom of his lid again. 

The watchdogs aided Lord Hater with his murder mystery party. They cooked all the food, decorated, made the characters up for the party and the script, and sent out the invitations. 

The commander had to admit they didn't do that bad of a job. But he could've done better. 

He slinks back up, heels of his hands munching at the bottom of his lid. The guests begin to trickle in, all decked out in pirate attire. Their pupils dance along the various decorations. There’s gold and raven balloons and streamers, casting inky dripping shadows across the large sprawled out buffet. Miniature skulls, valueless coins, and eyepatches skate in the crevices of the pearl plates piled high with grease saturated foods. Definitely a place Peepers won’t be indulging himself in. 

As the guests crowd in the Skull Ship their mixtures of yellow vowels and consonants leap off the walls, vibrating the tone of the room as their breaths expand scorching heat. The Halloween tunes are washed out, now a distance buzz in the room. 

“Mr. Peep-“ Wander throws his empty hand over his mouth, the other hand is gripped in Jeff’s pulling him along. “Whoops! I mean stranger!” He giggles into his hand, warm air slivering up the crevices of his palms as his shoulders bounce. 

Wander is ripping through the crowd, Jeff serving as the boisterous item that gets people to part the way. Sylvia cooly struts behind Jeff, lids drooped and evading boredom. 

He stops in front of Peepers, letting go of Jeff’s hand to fish his invitation out of his hat. The corner of his tongue pops out of his closed lips, eyes glued to the inside of his hat as he digs around. He whips the card out of his hat, and Peepers can practically hear a short dingy tune snapping above Wander’s head. 

He clears his throat, digging into his vocal cords for a raspy deep voice. “Aye matey I em a swab for Captain Lord Hater’s ship. I swab the decks with my broom even when it’s storming, and it’s the lowest rank on the ship.” Wander leans closer to Peepers, he cups his hand as if telling a secret but speaks at his squeaky regular tone. “But I think it’s the most important! A clean ship is important for the success of a crew. And Hatey knew it would suit me with me helpin’ folks and all!” 

He grins, his thin fake sable mustache curling. It appears to be much more realistic and less prickly than Peepers false beard that’s tucked away under his shirt. 

“Yes, hi Wander.” 

“No, no swab,” He squints at the back of his invitation card, “lame-o. Swab Lame-o.” 

Jeff, Sylvia, and Peepers all deadpan. Typical Hater. 

“And I’m a powder monkey, ma- I mean argh. I give the crew gunpowder during battles, and my name is Let Down Do-gooder. Man, that’s a long name,” He slips out of character, tone lugging through humor. “Mate-y.” He adds, light laughter ruining the rugged word. 

Wander giggles, taking a seat across from the commander. He wiggles his butt, adjusting himself to perch on the edge of the wheelbarrow. Major Threat plops down besides him, while Sylvia moseys over to sit next to Peepers. The commander glances behind him, considering fleeing but knowing that he has to stay for Hater’s sake. 

“What, no eye patch?” Sylvia drops into the seat, tilting the end of her lip as she rotates to stare at Peepers. 

Peepers reaches for his cobalt plastic cup, “Oh hardie har har.” He takes a sip of his drink, the pleasant burn tickling his esophagus. 

Wander bends, hanging over the side of the wheelbarrow to nudge Sylvia in the knee. “Miss Horse, introduce yerr-self.” Wanders smile cuts around the bottom of his face, leaving a blinding alabaster gaping hole. It taints the pirate mood he’s attempted to adapt. 

Her lips slump, “I’m Stupid Horse,” A nasally snicker hums out of Peepers lids. “and I’m a carpenter so most of the time I’m doing amputations. Who are you?” 

His humor is consumed by scorching humiliation that engulfs the corners of his eye in ruby flames. The commander glances down at his knee caps, releasing his legs to watch them swing above the ground. His heels ram into the side of the wheelbarrow as he mumbles, “I’m the boatswain and I’m like the general manager. I’m in charge of all the supplies so I am well fed and respected.” Peepers doesn't have to look at the back of his invitation, already having his character memorized. 

“And what’s your name?” Mirth seeps into her words, the blasted smirk returning to sink into her lips. 

“Commander Lord Hater’s Cutie.” Peepers keeps his pupil fixed on his thighs, legs stilling. 

Sylvia cackles, shaking her head as Wander’s boiling squealing penetrates through the sweltering waves emitting off Peepers.

A watchdog server comes by, helmet replaced with a brown leather pointy hat. With one hand he’s balancing a platter of drinks, the other done by his side. “Argh mate-y’s welcome to the festivities. Would anybody like some fruit punch?” 

The screeching of a microphone slices through the atmosphere, interrupting Syliva as she opens her mouth. She hisses, as everyones features squish. Apprehension and puzzlement crease between peoples eyebrows, furrowing them. 

Hater’s voice breaks through the microphone. He clears his throat, pupils dancing around the room swimming in awkwardness before they harden. “Yes welcome everyone to the greatest murder mystery party in the galaxy!” 

Awesome crosses his arms, leaning back on his wheelbarrow. Sourdough eyes are void and wilted besides him, mimicking Awesome’s eyes. Or in this case eye, since the emperor’s left eye is concealed by an eye patch. “Chua, yeah right bro.” 

Hater glares at him, stomping his foot. “It totally is! Just shut up Sir Douche. You don’t know anything, that’s why you’re my cabin boy.” His jaw morphs into a smirk at the reminder. 

Awesome grins, the glistening teeth giving away the trouble he is about to arouse. “Actually, it’s pronounced doosh-aye.” Some people around Awesome chortle, and Awesome basks in the laughter. 

Hater, on the other hand, drowns in it. “What?! I’m the captain of this ship and party so how I say it is the way it goes!” The last sentence comes out in a blur, but the whip lash doesn't stun Awesome at all. They start to argue, heads in the room turning from evil doer to evil doer as they watch the verbal battle unfold.

Peepers sighs, swinging his cup back and downing it. 

“Please tell me some of these are alcoholic.” She turns her wide hopeful eyes to the server, but with each horizontal shake of his head her hope is stomped on more. It crumbles to ebony ashes, rotting in her chest. “Of course flargin’ not.” Sylvia swipes a drink off the platter, groaning as the server shrugs. 

Captain Tim, the ships Quartermaster, growls and leaps onto the server. He shrieks, desperately flailing his limbs to try and shove Tim off him. His efforts are futile. Tim’s sizzling saliva ruins his uniform as he stumbles out of the room. Everyone mutely watches him go. Peepers figures at least the watchdog broke the fight up between Awesome and Hater. That’s a hard feat. 

Wordlessly Peepers takes out his small metal flask, slipping it over to Sylvia. 

“Oh ho ho! Don't mind if I do!” She pours most of it into her cup, and passes it back to the commander.He tucks it back away between the skin of his hip and his spandex pants. 

The both take a sip at the same time. Soft moans leak into the environment as both of their loose spines dip forwards. “Ah yeah much better,” She sighs, simpering, “Thanks Commander Cutie.” 

Peepers deadpans. “Don’t mention it.” He’s not talking about the flask, and Sylvia knows this. She’s not going to listen of course, but she heard the underlying message loud and clear. 

“So, got any spoilers for tonight?” Sylvia adjusts the red bandana across he forehead, pulling her vest tighter around herself as she twists to sit more towards him. 

“Nope. Hater wouldn't tell me a thing, he wants me to be surprised. Ha!” He takes a savory slurp from his cup. “I could guess everything that’s going to happen tonight.” Peepers crosses his left arm over his right, smugness making his lower lip sore upwards. 

Sylvia quirks an eyebrow. “Oh yeah Optic nerd? Lay it on me.” 

Peepers shrugs, glancing out of the corner of his eye at her. “Alright zbornak, first Wander is going to-“ 

The lights and music are shred from the room, leaving soot tension to slam into the hollow frigid atmosphere.


	2. Chapter 2

Shrieking plummets in the air, but fades off into a muffled mess before their throats can fully empty out the stark sharp vowels. 

Light soars back in the room, and immediately everyone’s widen and frolic around the room. Most of the watchdogs are gone, only a hand full remaining. 

Shreds of their costumes lie on the floor, some flecked with bitter carmine. Pirate hats and helmets are strewn throughout the room. Tangled between the hats and shreds of fabric is more thin copper crimson. 

Peepers had to admit it looked pretty realistic, especially with Hater doing something so unpredictable as to go for his own army first.

Hater’s jaw dangles, dangerously close to detaching. Obsidian floods in, engulfing his chartreuse irises. He clutches the microphone, and the only thing his hanging mouth contributes is more muteness to the deafening silence. 

He blinks, before his eyes enlarge and pupils flash ripe cherry. “What the- WANDER?!” 

All the heads in the room whip, eyes boring into Wander’s. He simpers, excitement sparkling in his eyes. His left arm constricted around Jeff’s, the other arm jabs into a shrug. “Wasn’t me I was here besides Jeff the whole time, captain.” Giddiness rubs against his words, clawing at Lord Hater’s annoyance. 

Murmuring deluges through the waves of the crowd, progressing louder as each second passes. The sugary lemon mood is drenched in terms of wonderment and positivity. 

“Oh, my, grop.” Andy watches the proceedings from the back corner of the room, nestled against the onyx wall. Bean is besides him, perched up now with a wide eye. Andy spine shoots up as he snaps to where Bean is. “Please tell me you got that.” Bean, now focusing the camera on Andy, moves the camera vertically in rapid motions. 

Andy’s lids tilt in a u as he fist pumps the air quickly. “Yes!” He twists so he’s facing the camera. “You saw it first,” Andy projects a short deep laugh, “well perhaps second, here folks! Most of you,” He drags out the you, staring directly into the camera lens as he points at the camera. He waves it softly horizontally, as if motioning to rows of an audience. “are the first murder victims at Lord Hater’s murder mystery party!” Andy straightens up more, consonants wiggling as their penetrated with joyful pride. “Wow! I feel very honored for us all.” 

Meanwhile fat suspicion rests its full weight on the commanders upper lid, burning his impressed thoughts. “Hmm.” He rests the palm of his hand on his lower lid, squinting up at Hater. 

“Well well well, looks like you were wrong.” Her smirk tears through her cool tone.

Peepers splutters, “Wha- psshhh no,” a broken laugh summersaults out of his lids, “I didn't finish! Most of the watchdogs are going to be the first victims, yep.” 

She cackles, reaching for her plastic cup. “Yeah right, you said Wander.” 

“Yes, that Lord Hater was first going to blame Wander after the watchdogs got murdered.” He nods once firmly, slouching a bit as he loosely crosses his arms.

Sylvia takes a drink, shaking her head. But Peepers can see her lips curling at the edges against the rim of her cup, failing at concealing her simper. “I suspected Wander to be first too, then probably me.” 

He shakes his head, not having to ponder at all who would be next in his brain. “No, I think Awesome would go before you.” 

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye as she grips her drink in her hand. She shakes it once, watching the pale mahogany liquid swirl. “Really?” 

The commander grins, “Hah yeah he hates Awesome,” his grin falters as he cackles, “Plus he’d be an easier target.” 

Her lips crack into a beam. “I’m honored.” 

Peepers rolls his eye, but the humor remains skipping around his pupil. Reaching for his cup he takes another sip. 

“Uh oh, here comes trouble.” Sylvia mumbles to him, gulping her drink down knowing that she’s going to need it to survive the encounter. 

Peepers didn't even have to glance up from his cup to know who she’s referring to. 

“Heyy C Peeps,” He glimpses at Sylvia, narrowing his eyes at her before he slinks down across from Peepers in the seat Wander was just in. 

Peepers eye monetarily widens and he shrinks backwards. When did Wander and Jeff leave? He turns around, inspecting the room but doesn't see the orange spoon or his larger companion anywhere. 

He turns back and Hater has sprawled himself across the table to whisper to Peepers, “Is it um… concerning that the person I hired to be the murderer didn't take who I told them to?” Peepers blinks, words dying in his throat. Hater hired someone? What? 

Sylvia continues to drink, feigning disinterest. But once again she's peering at that them from the corner of her eye. 

“I like told him to take Wander and Awesome before everyone else, but he took the watchdogs first,” Hater takes a gander around the room, “well most of them.” 

Peepers upper lid wavers, raising. “Wait what? Sir, you hired someone?” 

Hater shrugs, chest puffing as his chest and volume rises. “Well yeah I couldn't do it, I have to host the party.” 

Someone from the party is supposed to be the killer though. Peepers deadpans, typical Hater, but he expected at least one of the watchdogs to know that tidbit. Grop, Peepers has never been to one of these but knows that. 

An unanswered string of inquiries still slivers through the crevices of his brain. “But I thought the watchdogs were helping you with this, and that’s why they were all taken out of the room. To further assist with the special effects. So one of the watchdogs turned the light off, and the watchdogs who were in the room screamed dropping their helmets and spilling fake blood on the way out. Naturally the last one to leave would have turned the light back on, and I figured now all the watchdogs were huddled in the security room preparing for the next attack.” 

Hater frowns, eyes tilting up as he mules his words over. “Huh,” He exhales out. “yeah that sounds smart, do you think they thought of that?” His eyes dart back to Peepers, fogged over with wonderment. 

Peepers hands jolt out, slamming on the table. “Wha-no sir of course they didn’t!” 

Hater rests his fingers on his chin, nodding to himself, humming, “Hmm, yeah that would have been a better plan.” 

The commander leans backwards, spine crouching as he firmly crosses his arm. He breaks eye contact with Hater, grousing, “I told you I would help you sir.” 

“But I wanted to do it on my own! I wanted you to be apart of the audience and be all scared and impressed and thinking wow Lord Hater is awesome my boyfriend is the greatest.” Hater mirrors Peeper’s slouch, frowning as he millimeters back to his side of the table. 

Peepers sighs, “Sir I already think, no I know, that all!” His hand leaps across the table, grasping Hater’s. Peepers bends forwards so Hater and him are eye to eye. Lord Hater eyes shine as a smile pulls his jaw apart. 

Sylvia gags, pulling them out of their staring. A smirk stains her lips, and mirth lingers in her eyes. “Ugh I didn't peg you two for the sappy type. Well, maybe Hater now that I’m thinking about it.” She mumbles last part. They both glare at her, but the irksomeness is burnt by boiling embarrassment. Peepers lethargically removes his hand from Hater’s, but his shrunken pupil besmirches his placid facade. 

“Wait,” Peepers snaps up straighter, upper lids tilting as he fixes Hater with his gaze again. “so now there’s some rampage person you hired to be a murder running around not following your orders? Are you sure this person’s not a real murder?” His tone heightens as weariness plows into his vocal cords. 

Hater shakes his head horizontally, waving his hand dismissively, “No, no… hopefully.” 

Peepers blanches, shoulders bouncing as a cringe coils around his organs. “Sir the watchdogs!” 

Hater shrugs, “I’m sure they're fine… maybe.” 

He scans over the floor, squinting at the blood scattered across the floor. “Grop is that real blood?!” 

Sylvia slams her empty drink down, her tensing fingers sprawling out. “Wait real murderer?” She sharply whips around, eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of Wander or Jeff. 

Obsidian flushes the room out again, and instead of screaming share glass shattering screeches in the atmosphere. Gasping and squeaks penetrate the air, and suddenly the lights are back. 

A grease figure soars through the ship, swooping up the last remains of the watchdogs and now fist fighters. In the blink of an eye the figures vanished, blood shed trickling behind the cape on the person. 

Everyone turns to the light switch, where Something the So and So is rocking his weight from his black boot to his brown flipflop. 

“Man bro what the heck you weren’t supposed to turn the light on!” Awesome eyebrows are arched downward, sharp teeth sparkling in rage. Everyone glowers at him, mumbles of agreement rising in the sea of negativity. Something the So and So shrinks backwards, the wave slamming into his chest flooding him with apprehension and regret. 

“You’re going to give the murder away!” Sourdough narrows his olive eyes at him. 

“O-oh man, I’m really sorry.” Something the So and So stumbles out a trembling response, inching slowly towards his seat again. His spine is crouched as he meekly steps backwards. 

Awesome grumbles, “Man who even invited you.” Something the So and So slinks back onto his seat, head down as he stares at his lap and folds his hands onto them. 

Hater turns back to Peepers, an unconfident grin twitching on his lips. “Well the good news is he’s not a murderer. Bad news is, he didn't show. That or he doesn't look like his advertised picture at all.” 

Peepers lids gape, bottom lid hanging past his neck. “What?! Sir oh my grop we have to warn everyone!” 

Hater hisses, shooting his hands out as he scrambles his chest across the table again. “Wait Peepers! We can’t! Everybody loves the party!”

Peepers lids droop even more, before he shakes his head, lids narrowing. “Yes sir because they think it’s a game! You're going to let all these people here die including us just to keep your party, that is completely out of your hands now,” The commander makes his middle and pointer fingers on each of his hands into mock quotations, “cool?” 

Hater’s bones grow frigid, scenarios retching on his consciousness of Peepers, him, and/or Captain Tim dying. “Uh yeah, I guess we should tell everyone.” 

The crowd is beginning to trickle out of the room. Enthusiasm flutters out of the cracks between the tightly wound crowd, disintegrating when it hits the charcoal anxiety waves from Peepers table. 

Peepers bounces out of his seat, rushing for the only exit in the room. He shoves past the crowd, but by the time he makes it to the door the majority of the people are already in the halls. Peepers throws his hands out, and his left arm smacks into Awesome’s chest. “Wha-wait wait!” He jumps, shrieking. Awesome, who was turned talking to sourdough, now faces Peepers. Amusement trickles in his eyes as predatoriness drives his eyebrows down and lips apart. “Where is everyone going?!” 

Awesome barks, bouncing his shoulders as he looks to the people behind him. The question of is this guy serious dances along his shoulder blades. “Umm to go look for clues Peepsqueak,” The implied duh rings crystal clear to Peepers. “I’m going to solve this first.” Awesome grins, confidence oozing out of the blades of his teeth. 

Peepers leans into his crossed arms as he glowers up at Awesome. “There’s nothing to solve here because it’s not a game! There’s a real murderer!” 

Awesome bends down, resting his weight into his palms that lie on his knee caps. He coos, “Aww that’s cute, you don't get it.” He straightens, raising the volume of his voice as he motions his arms, “Commander Peepsqueak doesn't know this is a game, and thinks there’s a real murderer!” He crouches back down near Peepers level, “Aww don't be scared; it’s all just a game. I would've thought you would've read the whole rule pamphlet to the rules.” Snickering, he straights back up. The others echo his cackling, and as Awesome passes he bumps into Peepers. The commander stands his ground, fuming as the last of the crowd passes. Scorching rage boils to his eye, dragging his crimson veins out into his iris. “Fine, get killed for all I care!” He turns, yelling back to them, but gets nothing in response. 

The thin fury vaporizes out of his shaking body, and he stomps back over to Hater. Each pound of his boot into the marble floor feels satisfying. He thuds back down into his seat, mumbling to himself. He hates Awesome so flarping much. 

Hater stands, not even having to ask Peepers how his encounter went. Leisurely he trudges over to the microphone, taking the time to drag his saliva up his throat and clear his esophagus. Awkwardness looms over the small crowd remaining in the room, and all eyes bore into Lord Hater. 

“Uhh hey everyone, so it turns out there’s a murderer here.” Hater drags his words out, and Peepers face palms where he’s seated near the back of the room. 

The crowd starts to laugh, some even clapping which spreads to roaring applause. It hinders more than helps Hater’s pride. His pupils dart around, hands curling in front of him. “Heh no I mean a real murderer.” the laughing intensifies to barreling airy giggles. “No, people might actually be getting killed. I don't even know the person whose taking everyone, the guy I hired didn't show so I don't know who this new guy is. He’s probably the real deal, so you should all probably leave.” Now everyone is laughing, the extortion of it plowing out of them bringing tears to some of their eyes as they incline forwards.

“Ooh guys, it’s some sort of clue!” Someone in the middle of the crowd shouts, causing the crowd to quiet in anticipation to hear Hater clearer. 

Flarp this. 

Peepers jumps up, hovering above his wheelbarrow. “YEAH A CLUE TO GET A BRAIN AND GET OUT OF HERE! THERE’S A REAL MURDERER!” 

The room shifts to painfully mute. 

One of the citizens from the planet Hater parked the ship on whispers, “Wow he's really into this.” Someone else near the back of the crowd mumbles, “He's probably the murderer.” 

The commander plops down, hat falling in front of his pupil as he crosses his arms.

“Uh yeah that’s all.” The vowels rush together, slamming into the microphone. Hater struggles, adjusting the microphone back on its stand before walking to his table.

“Yeah no one's gonna buy this.” He mumbles to Peepers, whose anxiety shoves him out of his seat. “Sir we’ve got to get out of here!” 

Sylvia frowns, the commanders fear adding fuel to her concern. She jumps up, the force of it causing the wheelbarrow to rock. “I've gotta go find Wander and Jeff!” Sylvia rushes out of the room, head turning rapidly as she scans for the sight of her friends. 

“I locked the door for dramatic effect, but,” Hater reaches into the coat pocket of his ruby long coat, “I have the key.” 

Peepers exhales out his stress, forcing himself to remain calm. “Thank grop for that.” 

They run out the door, heading for the ship’s main entrance. 

They’ll leave the door open, so people will have a second chance to hopefully save themselves.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys I've been sick and not wanting to do much; I watched two whole seasons on Netlfix and have felt so unproductive. Finally starting to feel a bit better so I whipped this up instead of doing homework. 
> 
> Floyd is not my character, he is a watchdog OC that belongs to @Watchdog-with-a-blog on tumblr! Go check the blog out I love it!
> 
> For now, enjoy! I'm working on the next chapter later today.

“Wow our esteemed leader is so funny! Wherever most of you are, I vow not to miss a moment and to capture everything for each,” He stares at the camera pointedly, directing his pointer finger firmly up to the camera, “and every one of you.” Bean begins to move, strolling towards the crumbled chandelier. 

Andy jumps up from the wheelbarrow, rushing and kneeling in front of the camera that’s tilted and focused on the marble onyx floor. His palms arch out as he crouches on his knees, slinking backwards. “I’m taking you, directly to the scene of the crime.” Bean halts, drawing the camera up on his shoulder and peering through the lenses. He zooms into the shattered glass, and Andy talks over this. “Here it is folks. The second crime committed tonight, when Hater’s arch enemies army was taken, along with another few of our own.” Andy stops for dramatic effect, shutting his eye in a moment of silence. 

“Let’s see if we can find any clues.” The camera hurtles around the fallen chandelier, before returning to the frayed rope that was previously attaching the chandelier to the ceiling. “ Hm, whoever the murderer is must have had some sort of contraption to cut this down quickly.” Andy tip toes over the glass shards, holding the rope limply in his gloved hands. Like most of the other watchdogs, he kept his uniform on, but just altered the top to a more pirate friendly attire. He chose a striped red and white shirt, with an old brown vest to drape over it. The rest of his outfit remains the same, down to his crimson gloves.

He runs the pads of his gloved fingers over the broken jagged hairs of the rope. He hums, “The rope is frayed pretty bad.” He glances to where the camera was, but finds Bean’s back turned to him, camera focused on the people passing by. 

Andy bounces up, glass crunching under his (luckily) sturdy boots as he leaps in front of the camera. “Ooh witnesses! Let’s see if anyone caught a better sight of the murderer! Excuse me!” The camera pans down to their feet as they rush over to Beeza and Ripov. “Oh my grop! It’s the woman who helped Lord Hater get Captain Tim back! Wow.” He exhales, ripping his microphone out of Beans extended hand as excitement buzzes through his shaky limbs.  
Ripov bores her soot eyes into the camera, intense heat encompassing the camera in flames. Bean shifts the camera wearily away as she continues to stare, unblinking. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” She states, eeriness swelling in between the gaping wounds of her short but dragged out sentence.  
 Andy hops in front of the camera, slightly shaken by her tone but his elatedness numbs his apprehension. “It’s an honor to have you on my show,” He gushes, while confusion spins in her daffodil irises. She peers at the camera, squinting her eyes at it. “So,” He bounces on the pads of his boots, “what did you see during this horrendous crime?” He gestures to the fallen chandelier that is off camera, turning his body so he’s facing her while also being seen by the camera. 

Ripov slams her hand onto the camera, shoving it away and concealing their faces. But through the cracks of her lilac fingers the nonexistent audience can make out their figures. She flashes him a smirk that bites, teeth sparkling as she barks, “Ha nice try! But we’re not giving away anything.” Her hand snaps out, constricting around Beeza’s wrist as she pulls her out of the room. 

Beeza turns her head, offering them an apologetic simper. Inwardly she is glad, wanting to win as much as her girlfriend does. 

“Okay.” He drags the y through his puzzlement. 

Bean pans camera to across the room where Floyd, the last remaining watchdog besides Bean and Andy, is perched on a wheelbarrow cooly sipping punch. 

“Oh hey it’s Floyd! Let’s see if he saw anything!” Andy slides in front of the camera, lids swooping into a u as he jogs over to Floyd. “Excuse me Floyd. Hey!” Floyd smiles in the direction Andy is in, blue pupil being obscured by his lids. “Hello it’s Andy and you are liiiveee,” Bean shifts the camera to the left, and Andy sidesteps to be back in the camera’s focus. “on the Eye on the Skull Ship. Can you tell us what you saw in the first and second scenes of the crime?” 

Floyd frowns, resting the palm of his hand on his lower lid as he stares at the direction of Andy’s voice. “Well um, I’m blind so I didn't see anything because y’know…” 

Andy blanches, rehearsed words in his head blurring. “I’m sorry, I don't know how I forgot that!” Nervous giggling plummets out of his trembling lids. 

“I didn't notice the first crime until the screaming, nor the second till something crashed. Something with glass.” Floyd nods, recalling everything he can remember from several minutes ago. 

“Uh huh, very interesting. Can you describe that in any more detail?” Andy sticks his microphone under Floyd’s neck, leaning in while looking at the camera. More muteness creeps by, staining the environment in one-sided awkwardness. 

“Not really.” He states, staring blankly at the camera. Bean zooms in on Floyd, before zooming out and directing the camera on another by passer whose picking their nose. He zooms on them, and the person remains oblivious. 

“Okay,” Andy, unblinking, peers awkwardly into the camera that Bean has directed back at them while Floyd sits calmly in the silence. “well thank you for your time.” He removes his microphone, nursing it back in his hands. 

Bean focuses the camera on the passer again, this time starting to follow her turned back. “Oh, excuse me ma’am!” With his microphone down by his side, Andy races past Bean to the by passer, who remains oblivious to the calls and filming. 

———————

Hater thrusts the key in the lock, Peepers clenched throat finally letting his exhale plummet out of his lids. Elatedness strikes his apprehension at the core, exploding it and causing crisp serenity to flood his veins. As Hater twists the unlocked knob, Peepers turns his eye to examine all the inattentive victims pointing out meaningless objects that they have morphed into delirious clues. He mumbles, “Well I’m sure Wander will save everyone…” but through their stiff silence Hater’s ears pick up the soft consonants. He nods in distracted agreement as he pushes the golden doorknob. 

But then, nothing. 

“Huh,” The sound rushes out of Hater’s exhale. Leading with his shoulder, he slams all of his weight against the wooden door. With each pounce Peepers looses his airy hope, causing his system to become heavier and tenser. “something’s blocking the other side.” He turns to Peepers, eyes wide as he backs away from the door. Bringing his left hand up, he runs his palm quickly over his shoulder. 

They both stare at each other, before Peepers forces himself to attempt to breath. Hater shakes his head, “That’s the only exit.” 

Before he can think about it, Peepers snaps. “OH really sir? I had no idea!” He’s the flarpin’ commander after all. He brings his hand to the doorknob, jabbing all his might into it.   There is something blocking the other side, and it’s huge. What it could be Peepers has no idea, but it has a lot of weight to it. 

“Uh yeah Peepers I already tried that.” His words are knitted together by wool emerald banality.

His fury immediately dispatches as his brain catches up with his emotions, logic reminding him of the dire situation they’re both in. The commander backs up from the wooden door, shoulders drooping as hopelessness caves in. 

“I’ll just have to find the murderer and fight them. No big deal.” Hater shrugs, his past apprehension soaring off his shoulders. Peepers blinks, twisting to face Hater. By the tone of his voice he already knew Hater was being serious, but had to look at him to clearly convey his doubt. 

“Sir, whoever this is they are fast and efficient.” He stresses the adjectives, fingers dancing along them and loosening his stance.

Lord Hater glares down at him. “You don't think I can take whoever this wanna be is,” He takes a large step forwards, but Peepers stands his ground. “You just said I'm the greatest!” Hurt no stranger would be able to notice camouflages into the fury specks in his chartreuse irises. 

Peepers sighs, a strong headache banging on his temples from all the unwanted varieties of emotions tainting his logic.“Of course you’re the greatest sir.” He roughly breaths the sentence out, frustration heating the air between them. Hater’s drawn up shoulders fall, but not all his anger has fled. “I’m just…” Peepers racks his brain for how to deal with all these emotions. He tries to find substitutions of words to cover them, but as the silence grows on and Hater’s features start to harden more he gives into them. “nervous that’s all I don't want…” He breaths out, fishing for more words, “anything to happen to you.” 

Lord Hater cackles “I’m Lord Hater! Nothing can happen to me, duh.” The last word is dragged up his esophagus, ringing in Peepers ears and fueling his headache. 

Peepers sighs, pads of his fingers rubbing his top lid to attempt to fend the pressure off. “All right sir.” At the reminder of the situation and at the next words that have formed in his head, nostalgia plows into his heart. Snapshot memories painting across his lids of the time before the watchdogs when Hater and him worked alone. “Lets try to solve this case then.” Giddiness attacks his tone. Sure the situation is insane, but he was kind of looking forward to working with Hater one on one again. They had their moments, sure, but not something this crazy in a long time. The unknown force, not having a plan! 

Hater’s lips waver, a spitting psh dancing out of them. “Easy we’ll have it solved before any of these idiots do.” 

Peepers smirks, ripping his blaster out of his pants pocket. “Let’s start with the scene of the crime then.” 

They rush back to the main room, immature giggling trickling out of their systems.

Yeah, that wouldn't last long for either of them Peepers knew. But for now, he basked in it.


	4. Chapter 4

“Wander!” Sylvia rounds the corner, finally catching sight of bright orange once more. So far she’s leapt on an orange purse, an elderly woman with long tangerine locks, and some kid with a basketball. But this time she knows for sure it’s her buddy because of the legendary green hat… and the giant ex Major Threat with huge wings his hand is gripping onto. 

“Oh! Heya Syl-“ He giggles, false mustache twitching as radiant amusement rakes through the hairs. “Whoops I mean, Miss Horse. I was wonderin’ where you went off to! I mean, I assumed you were just enjoyin’ some quality time with Mr. Peep- Commander Cutie. It’s nice to see you two gettin’ along!”   Sylvia shakes her head, gripping him by his slim shoulders. “Look buddy we’ve got to get out of here!” She annunciates her words, hissing as her vision is stained by his bright chiffon irises. “There is a real murderer in here.” 

“Yeah, we all already knew that Miss-“   

“-No, no I mean a real murderer! Wander, that’s who I, Sylvia, am talking to right now. This isn’t a game, Lord Hater and the optic nerd told me themselves, there was some sort of mix up so there’s a real threat in here now!” The palms of her hands pounce on his shoulders, attempting to ground him. 

Wander blinks, mouth falling slack. “Oh.” He breaths out, comprehension sinking his pupils. 

“We’ve gotta help these people. Hater has a key to the entrance, so we just need to find a way to convince everyone to leave. Grop, him and Peepers are already gone.” She scoffs, before shaking her head. No Sylvia, stay focused. 

Jeff leans down between the pair, pale lips crouching with his figure. “Man, there’s a real murderer in here?” 

  Wander jolts, nudging Sylvia’s hands slightly off his shoulders. “WAIT! If there’s a real murderer-“   

“There is!” Sylvia shakes his shoulders once, before letting go. 

“-then where are all the watchdogs? And the fist fighters?” He glances around, crazed pupils leaping as his head whips in all directions. He twists around, but is met with the frigid soot marble walls. Fingers arching out his spine straightens, sending rigid apprehension through his tightening bones.  

“I don't know buddy, but we have to get everyone out first so that more people aren’t-“ 

The lights break off, the bulb above them bursting. Glass rains down, and Jeff tugs Sylvia and Wander under his arms. His wings shoot up, flapping causing a gust of wind. It wrecks the cool air waves as his wings efficiently cage them. 

“-hurt, oh grop.” Sylvia breaths into Jeff’s stiff lime arm that’s around her neck, his fur rustling as her words maneuver through it. 

As quick as the lights were off, they’re back on. With haste, Jeff lowers his wings cautiously and leisurely removes his arms from around Sylvia and Wander. 

Once the shock wears off for Wander, blinding anxiety bursts in. His eyes are glued to where he heard a gust of fabric that sounded like a coat in the darkness. He stares at Sylvia, whose just starting to register what he’s thinking.

Wander begins to tears off to the right, in the direction after the murderer went. But just as Syliva’s hand charges out for his arm, lilac swims around Wander. It drowns his limbs, clouding his figure and stilling him. Sylvia drags her extended arm back into her chest, the screech of “Wander wait!” glued to her esophagus. 

“Whoa there Tumbleweed.” Jeff’s gem is glowing, and Sylvia makes the umpteenth mistake of staring directly at it. Her eyes sob, balling up into her sockets as she immediately adverts any form of contact with the magic. In the corner of her eyes the radiance skips, and she has to rapidly blink to make the burning white speckle in her vision vanish. 

Jeff reaches out, grabbing his hand as he drops his power. Wander slips a bit forwards, jaggering. Jeff’s other hand settles on his back, steadying him. Wander groans, slouching as he drags his back down Jeff’s chest. 

She sighs, eyes glistening in empathy as she turns to look at Wander. “I know your heart is in the right place, but you cant just go running off after this guy.” 

Commander Peepers comes rushing out from the left, almost tripping over his boots when he’s sees the three of them in the large wide hall. Hater is right behind him, halting at his heels. “What happened now?!” His pupil darts over the three of them, wide and gaping. 

  Sylvia crosses her arms, eyes tracing over his heaving figure. “Look who decided to come back.”   

Peepers deadpans, tempted to mirror her but he keeps his hands firmly by his side. “We never left. Besides even if we did, we were in the right since we took the opportunity to do so. We tried to warn people.” 

Sylvia scoffs, “Yeah hardl-wait a second why did you come back then? Change of heart?” She smirks, and this time Peepers is the one scoffing.

“Yeah, no. There’s something blocking the door.” Sylvia’s smirk drops to the ground, wiping all former traces of humor out of the ship.

“What?” A tide of spate thoughts torrent in her head, pounding against her temples and deluging into her quickening heart. She breaths, forcing herself to slow down. There’s other ways out, surely Wander knows he knows this ship like the back of his hand. 

Waving a sharp large sword by a brass handle, Awesome’s hooting gives him away before he comes sliding into the hall. “The murders weapon! One of their many.” 

Peepers rolls his eye, knowing it is just a prop.

“Whoever this is, they’re taking all the secondary characters first!” A civilian from the planet Hater crashed his ship on jolts, waving his arms rapidly before they wrap around his head. His eyes pop out, fear eloping around the wrinkles and darkening them. “Oh man that means we’re nearing next!” Head whipping he stares at Sourdough, who doesn't acknowledge this person is talking to him. 

Everyone else follows Sourdough's lead, ignoring him. 

“Who was taken?” Peepers grounds into his logic, shoving his colorful bumbling emotions aside. 

Everyone glances around, eyes blank. Peepers sighs, reckoning that everyone in the room are the last people left. If there is anyone loitering around, the commander knows they can just pull them into a clump. As a group they’ll be invincible. “All right we should group everyone together, as a group we’re stronger.” He voices his thoughts, and everyone seems to be in agreement. 

Seems, of course, is the key word here.  

“Lame! As a group we’ll all be weakened and held back! I’m going off to find more evidence I am on,” Awesome kicks his leg out, “a,” he spins throwing his arms up, “roll.” Back inclined, he dances out on the tips of his toes. 

The little amount of the others who were in the room (Peepers couldn't name any of them if he tried) leave. “No wait,” he groans, eye flying backwards as he twists on the pads of his feet after taking one step towards them. He ciphered that they weren't worth it, that no amount of screaming could get them to stay. “See that's our problem! No one's listening!” He faces Sylvia now, lids sliced across his face once more. 

“Whatever who cares about them! Let them be destroyed!” Hater stalks to where Peepers has centered himself in the middle of the hall now, seizing Peepers wrist. “Let’s go look at the crime scene like we said we were going to do like an eternity ago.” He starts to drag Peepers towards the main room again, and the commander doesn't bother to attempt to bury the heels of his boots into the ground. Instead he allows himself to be tugged, arm accustomed to the strain by now. 

Sylvia roughly exhales through her nostrils, starting to follow the couple. Jeff and Wander trail closely behind her, not wanting to dwindle off too far. “We’ll figure something out. I’m sure we can gather everyone together somehow and go from there. Wander or I can announce it people should believe us.” She muses, talking calm to Peepers as if they were walking side by side.

Hot air tumbles off Peepers lids as Hater continues to violently lead him, yet he musters the strength to nod in agreement with her. 

 Lord Hater waits until they’re in front of the crippled chandelier to slide his hand from Peepers wrist down to his hand, abruptly stopping. Peepers, prepared for the halt, stands his ground. He squints at the clear shatters of glass, humming. The shadows of everyone crowding behind him drench the crime scene, and the environment soars to a boil saturated with desperate wonderment. 

The commander breaks away from Hater, tilting his ebony skull hat up as he tiptoes through the glass. His eyes are attached to his target, the chandelier rope. Easing his knees down to the ground, he squats down beside the frayed rope. Removing his glove he clenches the rope, narrowing his lids at it when he’s met with cool wetness. “Huh,” he exhales, pulling the rope to level with his pupil. 

On the top of the rope the last remains of ice are clinging on, leaking moisture that seeps into the rope. The rope at the top is a shade darker than the rest of it, but could go quickly unnoticed by a mere person. 

“What?” Sylvia voices everyones inquiry, and they all huddle closer to him. 

Peepers drops the rope, slipping his onyx glove back on. “There’s melted ice on the rope.” 

Sylvia eyes start to widen, irises being buried as Wander frowns. Hater and Jeff mirror Wander, before Jeff’s eyes start to enlarge slightly too. 

“And there’s only one person I know with ice powers…” Peepers continues, his cavernous statement linking Hater with everyone’s guess. Gradually all their heads shift to openly gape at each other. 

The statement slams into the screeching silence.

No way.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback fuels me :)
> 
> Tumblr: hatesgreat-bestvillian


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